


walk me home

by raniiaaa



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:20:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26851342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raniiaaa/pseuds/raniiaaa
Summary: A gut feeling. That was what people who trusted themselves called the inner mechanism that helps them decide what’s right. You never had an inner compass telling you what to do. Actually, no, that's inaccurate. You had a compass, but its needle flitted wildly around, drawn to multiple unknown magnetic fields, leaving you to decipher which direction it stayed on for a millisecond longer. Nonetheless, you had this flawed sense of direction, but then he walked through that door for the first time. The effect was instantaneous. He was like neodymium, resolving your case of reversed polarity.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Kudos: 12





	walk me home

The swanky party had progressed under the light of a surprisingly prominent New York full moon. Tinkling clinks of champagne glasses and gentle chatter played as a secondary soundtrack to a jazz quartet. As caterer staff, you needed to blend in with whatever wall you were positioned at. The table you were unofficially assigned to was taken care of right now, which meant you may be able to sneak out for a minute to just rest. The thought of it made your head loll slightly. This had been a long night and an unusual event. The attendees were the bigwigs of New York, which is saying a lot. There was a pre-event meeting where your boss outlined all the necessary procedures, your rush plan, and the times each of you would be cut. They didn’t need staff sitting around, which meant you could get out of these shoes soon and settle into your couch with some takeout and a movie on. You were just preparing for your last stretch when he arrived. 

****…

You had been wondering who the empty seat at the table was for, which was now no longer a mystery. His entrance had been through a side entrance, not the elaborate front door like all the other party guests. Everything about how he carried himself led you to believe he was trying to draw the least amount of attention to himself. It wouldn’t be possible though, no one that beautiful could ever hide effectively. The spare glance he gave you when settling down in his chair held you in place, almost like it was his own arms pinning you to the wall you were backed up against. You quickly turned your head to face another direction, heat blooming at the apples of your cheeks. Just an hour and then you’d be gone. With the arrival of this stranger, you weren’t as excited to leave. 

…

Though consciously avoiding him for the rest of your time, your attention (and interest) didn’t turn away from him. You knew who he was, how could you not. The solemn eyes were more of a giveaway than the metal arm should have been, but there was so much about James Buchannan Barnes for you to notice. He was quiet, sipping on a glass of water and observing all the others. You had been wrong, this man could hide in a desert. 

You remained hyper-aware of him. 

It was your job to be attentive, you told yourself, that the business guests bring helps pay your salary. Yet there was no reason for you to observe the subtle way he leaned back in his chair, like putting space between him and others. Or the length of his lush eyelashes, how they frame that icy gaze. Said gaze flitted over you now, as you filled the glasses at his abandoned table. The glass in front of him was next, empty enough to require your attention. “Would you like some water sir?” your tone is cordial and removed, like a digital assistant’s pre-recorded dialogue. He shakes his head, swirling the water in his glass carefully. You move to leave, but his voice stops you. “Why did you fill those other glasses?” his tone lacks any animosity, but you feel embarrassed nonetheless. You gape a little, prompting him to look away from the whirlpool in his glass and to you. His direct attention does not help with your answer at all. “It’s policy,” you say, an appeasing smile on your face. You want to tell him that you thought it was stupid too, even talked to your manager about it being a waste. Then one party guest complained about an empty water glass after coming back from the dance floor and you were back to seeing ridiculous amounts of water wasted. You couldn’t say any of this, though. Could you? Maybe, but you wanted this night to be a textbook one. You extracted yourself from the table, but there was a pull to stay. You defied it and left. 

…

He was here again, for another soiree with the rich and famous. You couldn’t tamp down the little flutter of excitement in your chest at the sight of him, chastising yourself for it immediately after. Adjusting your uniform ever so slightly, you set off to work another event, trying to ignore how your attention kept drawing itself to the northwest area of the lanai. 

…

The glass must have an optical illusion type design to it because there was much more bourbon in it than you thought. Or maybe you felt that way since it was running down your chest at the moment. The drunk party guest was nice at least, offering up an enthusiastic apology, swatting you with a tissue. Trying to extract their fondling hands graciously, you excused yourself and left.

You rush to get a spare shirt from your locker and then go to the staff bathroom. The door was locked. Fuck, you need to get out of this shirt fast. Trying the guest bathrooms, you were actually thankful for the locked doors. Guessing from the noises coming through from the other side, the risqué situation wasn’t one you’d want to interrupt. That left one choice. 

…

Your hands fumbled, trying to extract yourself from your sodden prison. Stripping in a dark alleyway wasn’t something you expected to do tonight. Just when the fabric slipped from your shoulders, you heard a cough. Fuck.

You spun around to see. 

It was him. 

Double fuck. 

Your hands went to cover yourself. “I’m sorry.” you both say at the same time. He averts his eyes while you hurriedly pat yourself dry and put your shirt back on. “I wouldn’t have been here if I’d known it was the changing room.” he has a nervous smile on his face. The belated realization that he made a joke jolts you out of your frozen state. You sound a genuine laugh but it comes out strangled. Now it’s your turn to say something and you fall back on your previously assigned social roles. “Why are you back here Sir? We have a smoking room upstairs if you need a space for that,” you said, smoothing out the front of your uniform. Your hands slow as he stays silent, just looking at you. Are you imagining the way his eyes rove over your frame? Surely you must be. He looks up, sees how you’ve stilled, and straightens up a bit. Shaking his head a bit, he nervously motions his hands in your general direction. “I’m sorry, it’s just that-” he pauses again, and you watch him with bated breath. “Your uniform isn’t on right.” Oh. 

Now you’re looking down at yourself in a frenzy, trying to right whatever mistake you made. He seems to take pity on you after a few minutes of not having located what it is. “I can,” he clears his throat, trying to rid it of the anxious growl it held, “Can I help you?” 

Your hands fall to your sides, a brief nod is all you can manage. He steps forward on the balls of his toes like he anticipates you’ll run. The problem was in your collar, the back folded awkwardly within itself. You try not to think about how close he now is to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. Here you are, observing him again. Except you notice everything you couldn’t see from a distance. There’s a slight stubble across his chin and his eyelashes curl more than you thought. 

His nimble fingers fix it quickly, withdrawing from their previous position quickly. This action causes his hands to graze your neck. The sensitive skin there reacts, sending electric shocks all throughout your body and you jolt back. His reaction follows within the next few seconds. Before you can say anything, he’s already disappeared through a back door of some kind, into the sights and sounds of the crowd. 

…

You should have known not to carpool with Jack tonight. Unfortunately, he was the only one on the crew tonight who lived in your general vicinity. Also, unfortunately, he got a salacious call from his girlfriend. Before you could even comprehend his words, you were dumped on the sidewalk. 

The night wasn’t ready to be over, it seemed. 

Following the bright blue line of the GPS on your phone, you began the trek to your home. Chilly air bit at your ears and you wished something warmer was between you and the elements. Hugging the thin jacket to yourself, your attention was tunnel-visioned to the path directly in front of you. ‘Right, left. right, left’ you repeated, hoping this rhythm would get you through the 45-minute walk that lay ahead of you. Having just acclimated to your situation, something collided with you. Pushed to the ground, your heart didn’t have time to race before you were pulled upright again. The arms steadying you felt … familiar? Lo and behold, James Buchannan Barnes was before you, equally shocked to see your face. “Hello,” you said, rushing to get the words out before you lost the courage. Seeing him in the glitter of high profile parties while you worked was one thing, but running into a person of his stature out in the regular world was another thing. The suit he had been wearing a few hours before was now semi deconstructed. The top two buttons were undone, giving you just a hint of the skin beneath. His tie lay around his neck, the jacket (which you were sure was too expensive to be) slung behind his shoulder, hanging precariously from one finger. You tried not to stare at his forearms, exposed by how he rolled up his sleeves. You just ended up staring at his face then, which really wasn’t a good idea if not getting flustered was your goal. His eyes were now squarely on you, the heat your body was so deprived of earlier now beginning to grow in your chest. “I hadn’t been able to say this earlier, but thank you,” you began, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze. “I would have probably been stuck with my arms over my head trying to get out of that shirt if you hadn’t helped me. If I ever need to change again, I’ll call you.” What the fuck? It’s ok, you can ride it out if you don’t start rambling. 

There was silence for a few minutes, so obviously you started to ramble. 

“Not that I can’t take my clothes off myself, just that you might be better at it.” Bad. “Not that I want for you to take my clothes off,” that’s a lie, you do, “I mean that it’s definitely not your responsibility, that’s what I meant you know. And that definitely doesn’t happen usually, it’s just cause the shirt was wet. But yeah, it’s my responsibility. And I’m sure you have much more important things to do…” Oh god.

“No problem,” he said, his voice just barely at an octave the human ear could comprehend. The previous silence fell back onto you both, your embarrassed gaze affixed on the ground. Decorum be damned, you were just going to turn around and start running away. While contemplating this, you felt something heavy rest itself around your shoulders. Lifting a hand to touch it, you felt silky fabric overlaid by wool. Looking up, you saw how close he was to you now, arms encasing your sides while laying the jacket onto you. After adjusting it to make sure it didn’t slip, he drew his arms back, slipping his hands into his pockets. His scent, which had intoxicated you the entire night, pervaded your senses. By reflex, you snuggled into the fabric before realizing how it may look. “You were shivering,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning on walking home tonight, so I didn’t layer up right,” you said after a brief pause. The tilt of his head prompted you to recount your night’s woes. After regaling him, his demeanor shifted. “ If you would allow me,” he said, “I would like to walk you home.” 

You tried not to look too shocked. Your night was veering into fiction. Then the truth of your situation hit you. New York at night was not kind to anyone, you had to have some kind of protection. What was better for the job than a fucking Avenger?! The words were caught in your throat for a few seconds, but you eventually managed to speak, “Yes I, uh, thank you. That would be - that would be great.” For the next few seconds, you both just stood. “Oh, right,” you had forgotten he didn’t know what direction to go. Neither did you, really, but google maps said northwards so that’s where you continued to go. 

Silence was right there beside you two, in the middle. You didn’t know how to cross that gorge, or if you even should. Then you remembered. 

“I tried to change the policy,” you said before you could stop and consider your words. His steps faltered for only a second till returning to normal. That was too vague a statement, what were you thinking? “The water glasses, I mean.” He now paused for more than a second. “You remembered that?” he sounded puzzled. You couldn’t understand why he thought you wouldn’t. Did he really not know how memorable he was? “Of course, I had a lot more to say that I couldn’t get into.” He gave only a nod and you thought it was the end. “Why?” he said, clearing his throat as if to get the words out. “Why couldn’t you get into it?” 

You considered this, but eventually just shrugged. “I guess I’m quiet when working.” 

Silence threatened to fall back into place so you asked, “Do you like them? The parties?” 

It had always been something you were curious about, seeing as he had never participated in the fanfare and festivities of the numerous parties he attended. Not all of them were galas and fundraisers, some were your regular end of the week party for people rich enough to rent the building regularly. He would drift in with a few people (sometimes the faces you saw on billboards after they saved the city and sometimes others), stay with them for a little before they went to the dancefloor and he stayed at the table. Sometimes, he would get prompted to the dancefloor or into conversation with a beautiful woman. Still, there seemed to be a string drawing and holding him to the table. 

He remained quiet for a while, weighing his words like he was trying to find the right number of kilos to match his budget. When he spoke, you were shocked to hear how solemn it sounded

“I’m trying to find someone.” The longing was apparent in his voice. You had the distinct feeling that you were currently privy to something few people had ever even caught a glimpse of. You didn’t say anything, hoping to allow him the space he needed if any other words came out of hiding. 

He struggled with the following ones that did, “Before it all happened,” it was obvious what it all was, “I loved parties.” Clearing his throat, he probed further. “Seeing people and being seen, meeting others for the first time despite having been introduced last week, letting a few hours escape from a dull week.” He paused again, clearly struggling. There was something akin to wistfulness in his eyes, made glassy by past memories. “I’m trying to see if I can love them again, I guess.” He sighed and you tried not to pay too much attention to its musical quality, “It doesn’t seem to be coming back.” 

“Maybe that’s ok.” You don’t know if that’s the right thing to say. However, the pain he felt was so apparent in his words and you just wanted to alleviate it in any way possible. “Even if you don’t like parties now, are there new things you like?” you said. He paused to consider this. “I guess I read more,” he said with a slight chuckle. You grabbed the chance, “What books have you been reading?”

…

Along the way, your task to cheer him up dissolved and all that was left was a deep desire to get to know him better. You don’t know what prompted you to do it, whether insanity or pure genius, but you asked if he wanted to join your book club. 

To your surprise, he asked when the next meeting was. 

Your apartment building reared into view as you told him. With a nod, he escorted you to the wire gates leading to the central courtyard. “Oh, here.” you tried to shrug off his jacket, but his hands landed on your shoulders to stop you. “Keep it for now. You can return it during the next book club meeting.” Your shock at his acceptance of your invitation dissipated after seeing the mischievous smile on his face. “You don’t even know where it is,” you said, with mock exasperation. A sly smile lifting the corners of your mouth, you took out the pen from tonight’s shift. “Arm?” You said, motioning the drawing of the pen as you said it. He brought up the right one. The feel of his skin on yours was intoxicating and you tried to ignore the tension hanging in the air as you began to gently write the digits of your phone number. “Text me with this number and I’ll add you to our group chat,”. You both looked at each other, his arm still in your grasp long after you had finished. “I really hope to see you,” you said, before letting his arm drop and going inside. 

You, unfortunately, didn’t get to see the shy smile he walked with for the rest of the night.


End file.
